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Happy weekend/welcome to October, ya'll.

XOXO

Leigh

Image found here.

my mom's raw vegan supper club

Last week my mom teamed up with her friend and fellow raw-food-enthusiast, Lydia, to host a raw vegan supper club! The two of them prepared all the food from scratch in my parent's kitchen, and served the meal to about fifteen paying guests set up a various tables around the house. The evening was a huge success, and they're already getting requests for another meal!

Martha and Lydia's five course raw vegan menu

I. Three Peppercorn-Crusted Cashew Cheese with Honeycomb & Balsamic vinegar

II. Herb Salad with Tahini & Dulse

III. Butternut Squash Bisque with Spiced Parsley Salad

IV. Creamy Polenta with Wild Mushroom Ragout and Fried Shallots

V. Banana Chocolate Tart with Caramel and Chocolate Sauces

Doesn't everything look delicious?! I've already told my mom we have to do an NYC iteration the next time she's in town ;)

TEDYouth

This is so cool. I just learned that TED is launching a special event, just for young people in grades 6-12! Here's a summary, from the official TED blog:

"The theme for our TEDYouth program is 'Play, Learn, Build and Share.' Be inspired and challenged by 20 passionate TEDYouth speakers who’ll inspire creativity, share mind-shifting stories, and engage their physical and virtual audience in ways that every student deserves."

The conference will be held on November 19, 2011, at the Times Center in New York City and it's free to attend for the 300 applicants that TED is accepting! Read more about the event, and learn how to apply, here. I wish I could go ;)

us

I know I haven't shared much in the way of family updates lately. In fact, things have been such a whirlwind of activity since we arrived back in NYC from our Summer adventures I've hardly had a chance to catch my breath, much less compose a thoughtful post about Life As We Know It. Hopefully I'll get around to that soon ;)

Meanwhile, here's a rare family portrait of us, taken last month when we were in North Carolina, at Camp Our Time. Trust me when I say the boys look older already.

Photo by Julie Mallett.

little mama

I spotted this little mama on the wonderful blog of babywearing emporium, Maverick Baby. How could I not share?! Check out the Maverick blog and shop for tons of swoonworthy carriers and stylish babywearing inspiration.

Birth Story of the Week: Birth in Rural Nepal

For this week's story I am linking to this incredible photo-essay about a young mother giving birth in rural Nepal. Images and text by Toni Greaves. Via NPR's The Baby Project.

kid room cool

Doesn't this space feel just right? I love the art display and the slightly cluttered, vintagey whimsy of the styling. Happy Monday!

Via the amazing Jenny Komenda for Babble

Vanessa Knox

I am positively gasping over the gorgeous new maternity collection from Vanessa Knox. Featuring classic pieces like this trench coat and a range of elegant dresses, I have never seen maternity clothes that are so imminently wearable and yet completely glamorous.

Vanessa herself was kind enough to send me the Floria Dress and Cara Cardigan, and I was floored by every aspect of her designs. From the handsome box they arrived in, to the cut, fit, and fabric, I would list these items as two of my favorite pieces of clothing (maternity or non-maternity) that I own. I can't wait to wear them over and over until the baby arrives and beyond! I'll do an outfit/bump post soon ;)

Meanwhile, I urge you to enter maternity shopping heaven.

Daumier on Breastfeeding

The Third-Class Carriage, ca. 1862–64

Honoré Daumier (French, 1808–1879)

Oil on canvas

The Metropolitan Museum of Art

fall salad yum

Doesn't this Endive and Warm Pear Salad with Stilton look sooooooo delicious and perfect for the season? I can't wait to try it.

Via Mark Bittman.

where i'll be thursday night

Thursday evening there's going to be an opening reception for A Thousand Ships, a show of new works by my superfabulousamazing friend, Samantha Hahn. I am so excited to feast on all the eye candy! If you're in NYC, you should most definitely stop in to Gallery Hanahou between 7-9 pm to check it out for yourself! RSVP to info@galleryhanahou.com

P.S.: I am flattered beyond words that Samantha created a portrait of me for the show, and I can hardly wait to see it in person. Thanks for making me feel like an insanely glamorous superstar, Samantha!

Birth Story of the Week: Tasting Menu or How Luciana was Born

I was profoundly touched by this story, sent in by Melanie Lora Meltzer, of Figs and Feathers. The incredibly transformative experience of giving birth is so beautifully articulated here. Melanie's strength, perseverance, and openness through a difficult labor should serve as a powerful inspiration to all. Thank you for sharing, Melanie!

--Leigh

I started preparing for Luciana's birth many months ago. Over Thanksgiving, when I was about 7 weeks pregnant, I read Your Best Birth, watched The Business of Being Born, and hired my wonderful doula, Ilona.

By the end of the year, I'd read Ina Mae's Guide to Childbirth, interviewed several midwives, and scouted childbirth classes. In January, Sky and I chose our midwife, the extraordinary Debbie Frank,I'd read more books, was journaling to the baby regularly, had modified my exercise accordingly, etc etc etc. I was a prepared pregnant woman and I loved it. As my pregnancy progressed, and we took our childbirth class with Ana Paula Markel, and I read about labor and imagined it, I became really excited about what it could be like to give birth. Sky and friends would ask me from time to time if I was nervous or scared, and I always said No. I wasn't. I trusted my body and my ability to give birth completely. I trusted our baby; that she (though of course we didn't know she was a she) knew what she was doing. I knew I had an amazing team with Debbie and Ilona, and I took really good care of my body, doing prenatal yoga at Golden Bridge, swimming, walking on the beach, counting protein grams daily...(mamas, remember that?)

Monday

My due date, July 24th, came and went, and I was feeling more Braxton-Hicks contractions each day. On the evening of Monday the 26th I wasn't sure I was in labor when I felt waves of achiness in my lower back. After noticing that they came in intervals of about 10 minutes apart, and knowing that some women feel labor in their backs, I called Debbie. She said it might be a false alarm, and it might be the start of my labor, so I should see how/if it progresses and call her if they get to be 5 minutes apart. I had spoken to Ilona as well, so she knew it was a possibility. Sky came home from work, and we hung out on the couch, excited that this might be the beginning. And it was.

My contractions got closer together and a lot more intense. Sky called Ilona around midnight because I couldn't talk through them and was climbing around over the bed finding positions that might help what I was feeling pass more easily. She headed to our house. We called Debbie as well who thought it sounded like things were progressing enough that she came over too. We had the lights dim in the bedroom, which is where I was when they arrived. I'd pictured myself laboring in the open living room at the front of the house, but found all I wanted was to be in or near my bed. Everything about labor is so vivid: I have snapshots in my head of the exact dimness of the room, the exact song Debbie asked about, exactly how it felt having my head rubbed and my hips pressed.

The night got darker and later and my labor got more and more intense. My contractions were strong, about 6 minutes apart, but I never felt them in my belly--they were always in my back and in the sides of my hips. They were strong enough to the point that I was feeling sick. I was trying to connect to the spiritual part of birth, to remember that this was sacred and profound, but I was so nauseated and lightheaded that it was hard for me to do that. I actually fainted in the bathroom as I was about to throw up and Ilona woke me up as I vomited on the floor. The weird thing was that I wasn't progressing. Usually as contractions get stronger one does. I was dilated to 1 1/2 cm and 70% effaced, and I was still there in the early hours of the morning. Debbie felt, though, that our baby was coming soon--that the 27th would be his/her birthday.

However by 8am contractions has slowed way down--back to 10 minutes apart or so---and were mild enough that I could talk through them. It's not unheard of for labor to stop and start, so Debbie and Ilona went home and we all waited to see when it would start back up in earnest.

Tuesday

Sky and I got a little sleep that morning. I'd wake every 30-60 minutes with a stronger contraction, but most were mild enough that I slept through them. Ilona called her acupuncturist who does house calls. He came over and spent 2 hours doing acupressure and needles on me. Ilona went home. I learned then that if I had to, hard as it might be, I could stay still during a contraction. That would be helpful if I wanted to conserve energy, say, at night. We called Debbie and Ilona again, figured this was it, and they came over. Same thing as Monday. Strong contractions got weaker. I dilated to 2 and didn't go past. That night we slept a little more; I never for more than an hour or so: labor never stopped just got very manageable. Again, this happens: early labor goes on for days with some women. Debbie thought it was a little unusual that I'd have periods of such intensity without progressing into active labor, but we felt my body and the baby were taking their time, and all would go full steam ahead when they were ready.

Wednesday

I got super emotional. Went into the baby's/my meditation room and cried and cried. I was scared I wasn't going to go into real labor; I was confused at what wasn't happening; I felt completely powerless over being able to move things along. I knew pressure on myself would most likely keep it from happening, so I prayed to trust, prayed to be on the ride with no expectations, and tried to give myself a break--I'd been pretty much up for 48 hours. Sky and I went down to the beach for a walk which felt so good as I'd spent so much time there walking during my pregnancy. Labor picked right back up. We liked the thought that the baby liked the ocean; could hear it and sense it, and that the ocean was urging the baby out. I couldn't do the walk and found myself hanging onto benches while Sky went for the car. We said a prayer that this was it. We talked to the baby. I talked to my body. Sent love and ease and asked for safe passage for mama and babe. Debbie was at the hospital with another patient who had just delivered, so she suggested we come there. If I was going into active labor, that made more sense than waiting for her to get to us and all of us to get back to the hospital. Sky grabbed the bags, called Ilona who was actually on her way to us, she turned around so she could meet us at the hospital, and I sat through a very difficult car ride. Cars just suck in labor; no way around it. I should say here, too, that still I felt everything in my back and hips. During a contraction, the pressure there would get so strong it felt like my whole back was spasming and nothing but incredibly strong pressure from Sky or Ilona on my hips would alleviate it even a little. But in between contractions the pressure didn't go away. It lessened, sure, from maybe an 8 to a 6, but I'd counted on having breaks in between contractions and when I was in the strong phases of my labor there were no breaks, and I knew this was tiring me out physically and emotionally. I knew I was going to be drawing on all the reserves I had, but I was glad to do it---that's what I'd expected labor to ask of me.

At the hospital I breathed a huge sigh of relief because I'd progressed to 4. Debbie felt we'd turned a corner. This was it. The baby was on the way. As much as I'd wanted a home birth when Sky and I first talked about what our plan would be, I really liked my room at Cedars and felt totally comfortable there. I had my team, our nurse had worked with Debbie lots before and was a huge advocate of natural childbirth, the room was big and sunny, I could get in and out of the shower. The baby sounded perfect on the monitor--through all of this the hummingbird's heart rate had never faltered. Already I knew I had a strong little being on my hands.

By Wednesday evening, though, I'd been discharged. Once again, everything had slowed down, and I was still at 4. This time before we went home, Debbie sat on the end of my bed and told me that if this pattern continued for another 24 hours, I'd need to seriously consider pitocin to advance the dilation of my cervix. The risk we were starting to face was that my uterus could tire out, and if that happened, and it wasn't able to contract strongly enough to get the baby down, pitocin would be a necessity. However, if it was too tired it wouldn't respond to pitocin, and then I'd be looking at a C-section. I understood, but in the moment it felt devastating. All I wanted was to have my baby completely naturally. I didn't want her drugged, I didn't want to not be able to feel her coming out. I, again, was baffled and humbled and shocked that my body wasn't doing what I was so sure it knew how to do. I felt now I had a timeline. I felt a little ashamed with Sky--like I was letting him down too by not being able to do this. All of this was in my head, but it was enough to have me on edge and easily upset. We went home, I tried to eat, we tried to laugh, I didn't succeed at either, but I had a couple of 2-hour stretches of sleep that night and that did help me feel less wound up in the morning.

Thursday

I emailed Debbie and told her I'd slept. She said that was great news: it didn't sound like I was in labor anymore, which meant I didn't have to worry about a timeline. My body was resting, which was what it needed to do. We'd see this baby when it was ready. By about 10, however, I was in the most excruciating pain in my back that I'd ever felt. It was unrelenting, and I didn't think it was labor. I figured my back was exhausted from the 3 days before, and Sky called my acupuncturist and made an appointment with her. My mom drove me as I groaned the entire drive, and on the table in Dr. Hu's office I could tell that what I was in was the strongest labor I'd been in yet. I could feel contractions in my belly as well as my back. Knowing it was labor gave me a little extra stamina, even though it was painful to the point of more tears. Sky picked me up from the appointment and we drove to Debbie's office where I had my weekly appointment scheduled with her.

I was moving over the couch and floor of her office when she walked in. I don't think I'll ever forget the expression on her face when she asked me if I was in labor--I read it as shock which it could have been since I hadn't called her in what seemed to be the most active phase of labor yet. I moaned, "I don't know; I don't know" and she said I certainly looked like a woman in labor. She checked me--still 4---and suggested I head to the hospital and she'd meet us there. My labor seemed to have kicked into a different gear. Of course we found Ilona, who again would meet us at the Cedars entrance. On the way to the hospital after a particularly loud yell through one contraction my water broke. it's unmistakeable when it happens---a warm gush that keeps gushing. Although I was struggling to feel OK in the car, I was thrilled that it had broken, as it seemed the baby was that much closer, and when a man in an SUV tried to cut us off at our left turn to the hospital, I stared him dead in the eye from the car window, gave him a particular finger, and yelled a name at him I won't print here. He let us go.

At the hospital things felt different. I knew the baby would be born tonight or early Friday morning. I moaned and moved into any position I could think of, Sky and Ilona pushed, massaged and held me, I got in and out of the shower, Debbie checked the baby periodically, and the baby was doing great. I knew we were on our way. But at 5:00pm I was still 4 cm. Debbie advised me to get pitocin for the reasons we'd talked about yesterday. I was crushed. I knew, though, that she was right. At first I said I wanted to do it with no epidural---I so wanted to stay connected to my body during this. About 10 minutes later, though, I had to admit to myself that I was being stubborn about an idea I had. I had reached my limit. It had been almost 72 hours, my body was exhausted, I was in crazy pain in my back that was only going to increase with pitocin and I had a long way to go to get to 10cm. I said I wanted an epidural. Sky told me to wait because I'd made him promise that if I asked for drugs to make me wait. I told him, and I remember feeling meek about it, that I had to get help if I was going to get pitocin. Again, I was ashamed, I was so sad, I was humbled in a way I didn't want to be humbled. This was not going according to the beautiful plan I'd written out--not at all. This was not my idea of myself in labor---not at all.

The next 7 hours were one long half-dream. I wanted to curl up inside of myself when I was given the anaesthesia. I didn't want to be me. I didn't want to be here. I was worried about my baby and the effects drugs would have on her. Debbie told me how important it was to rest. So until 2 am I lay in the hospital bed, Sky lay sometimes on the couch and sometimes in bed with me. Ilona went home, Debbie would come in and out. Day turned to night; I half slept here and there. I rested my hands on my belly and I prayed. Prayed that the baby be OK. Prayed that my body open up, visualized it opening like a rose, like the ocean, prayed for the willingness to accept what was going on with an open heart, prayed to surrender ideas I had about what was right. Listened to one of my favorite mantras --Ra Ma Da Sa --over and over (sung by Mirabai Ceiba and if I could play it here I would. It's a beautiful beautiful mantra for healing). I play that mantra for Luciana now when I am helping her get to sleep---it works like magic on her---and it's only in the last day that I can listen without crying. It takes me back to lying in that semi-darkness, talking to Debbie and Sky now and then, waiting and silently begging that my body see this through.

Friday

At 2am I knew by Debbie's face when she checked me that I hadn't changed. So we had the discussion I never thought I'd have. My only option left was to have a C-section. I can't even say that I started crying here. I'd been one continuous leak for hours, sometimes turned up and sometimes turned down. I process lots through crying, and I don't want to give the impression I was weeping through this whole thing out of sadness or hopelessness, but there simply were lots of tears. This journey was requiring me to use every ounce of strength I had physically, emotionally and spiritually. I was being humbled beyond humble, the thing-that-was-never-going-to-happen was happening. Sky and I asked for a few moments of privacy and decided we wanted to try with the pitocin for a couple more hours. Debbie had Oked that. If nothing changed by 4am I'd have the surgery. We prayed, manifested, visualized, hugged each other, talked to the baby, and I tried to quiet my soul. At 4 Debbie came in. I honestly didn't expect it to have changed---I'll say that. I think I had to go to that place so I could prepare myself for what might be happening next. I was still 4cm. She had called my back-up doctor, who I really liked, which is a blessing, and at 4:30, after 9 hours of more pitocin than Debbie said she'd given anyone ever, I was shaved to be ready for surgery and wheeled into the OR.

If one is planning on having a C-section, or if one has to have one as a last-minute surprise, I hope you get a team as lovely as the one I had. Everyone was so kind; the anaesthesiologist was so attentive, Sky and Debbie were with me. The lights in the OR were so bright after all the time I'd spent in low-lit rooms. I had a moment of being sure I was dreaming, that I would be awake any second. The hormones from laboring plus the anaesthesia had me shaking uncontrollably on the table. Debbie kept her hands on my shoulders and my head, and I'd reach up and hold her hand when I needed to. I was trying so hard not to cry. I was numbed, the drape was up, they said I'd feel a pushing and pressure when they were going in to get her; I sent light and grace with my thoughts to the doctors, I felt what they said I'd feel, and at 5:12 am on July 29 our baby was born. The doctors asked Sky if he wanted to "call the baby". He stood up and told me it was a girl. That I'd gotten my girl. I need not tell you that I....cried. Or whimpered. Or something. I had my girl. My beautiful, Sky told me, little girl. I heard her cry; I couldn't hold her right away-- with a C-section they need to suction her immediately. But I could hear that cry that every once in a while she makes here in the house. I think I could pick it out from 10,000 babies' cries. I knew Sky was with her, I knew she had his love around her. I told Debbie to tell him to tell our daughter that everything was OK. It was probably only a few minutes, but nothing I know has felt longer, til I could see her. If half an hour before I'd been sure I was dreaming, now I was awake into a different reality. My baby had been born, and I was waiting desperately to see her.

The doctors told me what had caused the crazy ride this had been: her little head had turned ever so slightly and gotten wedged in my pelvis. No amount of pressure from my faithful uterus was moving her. The angle was slight enough that even in the ultrasound Debbie did on Thursday it was undetectable. But there was no way she would have come out through my pelvis.

Sky brought her to me and lay us cheek to cheek. My hands were still shaking so much I couldn't touch her. All I wanted to do was touch her. I could see her little face, my baby's little face. My hummingbird was of this world now. It's true what they all say: there is nothing like the love you feel for your baby when you hear her, see her, feel her. The doctors finished sewing me up and they rolled me (literally) off the table onto the bed I'd recover in for a couple of hours. Then they gave her to me. I had my girl in my arms, wrapped up like the gift she is. I didn't get my instant skin-to-skin contact, she hadn't fed in her first 5 minutes of life, but she was OK and I was OK and we were starting our life together.

As soon as we were in the recovery room we unwrapped her, placed her on my chest, and she started to nurse. We make sure we spend at least an hour each day lying tummy to tummy no clothes on, and that might be my favorite hour of the day. Because I'd had a C, we were in the hospital until Monday. I'd heard the nurses at Cedars were wonderful, and it was true. As much as I wouldn't have wished for several days in the hospital, there was something magical about being in that cocoon. Our families came by, a couple of friends, I told this story a couple of times and cried through every telling. That's just me. And a lot of postpartum hormones. Other than those few visits, and the frequent check-ups by the nurses, Sky and Luciana and I holed up and we fell more and more in love with her. We hope she's half as much in love with us.

Now we've been home for 2 weeks. Unbelieveable. I've been asked by different friends what happened in our birth, and each time I tell the story I still cry. But it's not because I'm sad about it or have regrets about it. It happened how it happened. Not at all what I planned, and someday I know it will all make sense to me. I get emotional more because it was simply the biggest thing I've ever gone through. I knew having a baby would be. I knew it would change me; I knew it would ask me to go to places I didn't even know I had in me to go to. I just thought the map and the roadside attractions would be very different. Rather than the triumphant warrior goddess breathing her baby out, I was a trembling, teary woman brought to her knees. And that, in its way, is another kind of bravery and another kind of goddess, to have the willingness to be present for something as challenging as it was, and I know that. In a way, I feel this birth required me to be stronger than had I had the one I envisioned. I get to thank myself and thank Luciana for being able enough to undergo 86 hours of labor and a major surgery. At one week post-op I was going on hour-long walks with little discomfort, and Luciana has been thriving. And she does not feel less loved or bonded to for having been airlifted instead of squeezed through the birth canal. It's still a bit surreal to me: I have many moments where I can't wrap my head around the fact that I had a C-section, but I did. What a flesh-and-blood experience of life not going according to my plan.

I joke that I'm someone who always wants to try everything on the menu, and I did that with birth. I labored naturally at home, in 2 offices, on the beach, in the car and in the hospital. I labored with pitocin and an epidural. And ultimately I tried a C-Section. I know what every kind of labor feels like now:) And I know, too, from firsthand experience, that a C-section is still a birth. It is a powerful, brave thing that a woman does to bring her baby into the world. It can be sacred and holy and just right for that child. I also know that while this felt huge to me, and was huge, I have a beautiful healthy baby and I am healthy and here for her. And I am so so so so so lucky and grateful that this is so. Luciana came into the world with her arms wide open, ready to embrace every part of it. I already feel the world is doing that back to her.

hair DO?

Photos via Pintrest

I haven't dyed my hair in years, and I actually really dig the idea of not fighting the grey, but I have to say that the ombre hair trend has really captured my attention. I especially love these brunette-fading to blonde versions, and I feel like it would offer a laid-back, easy-to-maintain (or grow out/cut), approach to color. Not to mention I think it looks so sexy and chic. What do you think? Would you consider rocking ombre or dip-dyed hair?

room pretty

Happy monday, dolls. I hope you had a lovely weekend.

Isn't this room divine?

From C Magazine, Via Happenstance.

Arrietty

As a kid, one of my favorite chapter books was The Borrowers by Mary Norton. I'm reading it to Jackson now, and he is as obsessed with it as I am newly charmed by it. It is such a vividly-told, exciting tale featuring a gutsy, powerful young girl as its protagonist. Have you read it?

I cannot tell you how delighted I was to learn recently that the story has been adapted into an animated film by the amazing Hayao Miyazaki (creator of two of our favorite movies of all time, Ponyo and My Neighbor Totoro)! Arrietty is slated for a February 2012 release here in the US. The cast of voices is amazing too; it includes Will Arnett, Amy Poehler, Saoirse Ronan and Carol Burnett.

Here's the trailer for the UK version, which was released earlier this Summer:

Tintoretto on Breastfeeding

Origin of the Milky Way, Jacopo Tintoretto, about 1575.

Collection of The National Gallery, London.

Read more here.

maternity inspiration

Laura from Ascot Friday had the most ahhh-ma-zing pregnant style last Spring when she was expecting her second child. Now that I'm growing a bump, I went back to her archives to take notes! So chic.

rolling in the deep

So good. You go ahead, Alexa! Remember this pair from here?

Birth Story of the Week: Drunk With Love

Let's get back into the Birth Story swing of things, shall we? Here is a great, rather rollicking story, sent to me by Betsy of Tales From the Dairy Air. It is filled with such honesty, humor, wisdom and love that I can't wait for you to read it! Also, be sure to check out all the squee-inducing photos of the seriously adorable Bear in the original post, here. Thanks so much for sharing, Betsy!

--Leigh

So, yeah! I had a baby! Two months ago. Here I am to tell about it at last.

For weeks after giving birth, I had a nagging sense of procrastination when it came to my birth story. Shouldn't I blog, or at least journal, about all that had happened to me? Because wouldn't I quickly forget the smell of amniotic fluid, and how cumbersome it was to weigh two hundred and forty five pounds (!!), and the unexpected postpartum bliss of effortlessly picking up a dropped razor in the shower? (Now that was a special moment). No, I see now, those things aren't easily forgotten. And I'm grateful because 'til now I could never make it happen to sit myself down and write about the whole thing. I was too busy staring at my baby, marveling at the magic of breastfeeding, spraying poo diapers, and sitting on my couch yakking with all the family that came to stare at him, too. But this past weekend over some mushroom and swiss-smothered burgers, we finally sat down with our doula and talked through me having a baby, the hospital experience and all the in-betweens. I guess in the back of my mind I've been waiting for that conversation with Dana to happen because now I feel like it's ready to come out. Two months later.

You could pretty much boil the story of any baby being born right down to the basics:

The baby was once inside, now the baby is outside.
(So freaking amazing) and I am drunk with love.
The End.

But there are so many details, so many soapboxes, so many moments that surprised me. Why glaze over all that good stuff, right? Hence, the birth story. Ah, birth stories. I started reading them even before I was pregnant, out of interest, and then while I was pregnant for education and inspiration. The stories I took the most interest in were the natural ones, since we knew we wanted our baby to come with as little interventions as possible. Many of the stories were home births. You know, the ones in which the main character is a big, blue pool and the woman describes the whole thing as really relaxed and sexy and painless because her baby just kinda s l i i i i i d e s out. (Maybe that will be me the next time). I'm really glad I surrounded my brain with positive, earthy birth stories like that, even though I knew from the beginning that we would have a hospital birth. When I first got pregnant, the thought of a home birth made me feel really insecure, and I was totally uneducated about how amazing the design of a woman's body is and how labor works, so I just wanted to see what my body was gonna do with labor. Also, we live above a martini bar, and Dustan was afraid the weight of a big blue pool might stress the floor, and we'd collapse into a pile of vodka and shards of glass (and that would not be natural), and I absolutely couldn't bear the thought of a home birth without a blue pool. So. Hospital it was. We settled on a hospital where a couple of friends had had successful natural births under the care of a nurse midwife.

I think the term "midwife" is unfortunate these days. It conjures up images of pleated calico dresses and dirt fields and and someone who has to handle every problem with a strip of cloth. Really a certified nurse midwife (CNM) does everything an OB does, except surgery. My 2 midwives wore white coats, drank diet soda, I'm pretty sure one of them was a smoker. Probably if you find a midwife who practices outside a hospital, you'll get the hairy armpit, fry-up-your-placenta kind of woman that most people envision with that word. But the closest thing we had to that in our life was our Bradley instructor.

Louise lives in a big old house in the historic district of Milwaukee and Dust and I met after work for weeks before the baby was born for her to teach us the Bradley method of childbirth. Her husband greeted us at the door. He wore the same thing every time: cargo pants, a black tee shirt that said something about the government, a flannel shirt and a fanny pack. Awesomeness. He was always surrounded by cats. Louise always wore Acorns and a shirt about multi-cultural prayer. She had this awesome New York accent and she could squat for hours. She always had a massive mug of lukewarm peppermint tea. Her passion for natural childbirth was contagious. We learned about everything from anatomy to delivery. We were pumped.

February 13th rolls around and we are supposed to go to a hockey game with friends but instead my body started showing all kinds of signs of pre-labor. We kinda looked at each other extra-long all the time. There was never a dirty dish in the sink because any minute could be the minute we dash out the door and don't come back until there's a baby with us, and we don't want him coming home to dirty dishes. Same for dog hair on the floor, dirty clothes, spots on the mirror - there was none of it. Dustan took time off work here and there that whole week, thinking with each day I'd wake up and say "Call Dana." (Our doula).

My due date (February 15th) came. And went. And more days passed. I went in for my 40 week appointment on February 17th and immediately my midwife started talking induction. I was crushed. There's nothing I fear more than Pitocin - an artificial hormone that causes your uterus to contract so violently very few people can withstand it without an accompanying epidural - a painkiller injected into the spinal cord, which totally terrifies me. You have to wonder, if that's what Pitocin does to you, what does it do to your baby? Now you have a labor-inducing drug and a pain-killing drug in your body and the cocktail has to be just right, otherwise blood pressure drops or spikes or the baby gets "stuck" or distressed and - bam - emergency C-section. Maybe that sounds extreme, but there are more C-sections today than ever, and they're only increasing. I fear a C-section even more than the Pitocin/epidural combo, but the bottom line is, they both seem like a pretty scary way to get a baby out. Those that have to go through that are warriors. So anyway my midwife tells me what day she "won't let me go past." I just kinda nod. At this point, I don't want to be a jerk, I have nothing to prove, I just want my baby to come when he is ready and I'm confident my body will produce a baby at it's own rate. Also, I'm thinking there's no way I will get to the threatened induction date (February 25th) because my body is doing so much to prepare. But hospital policy calls for a non-stress test, an ultrasound to check amniotic fluid levels and a consultation with your caregiver. We schedule it for the following Tuesday, thinking no biggie, my baby will be here by then anyway.

Tuesday comes. February 22nd. I sent an email to my sister telling her I had contractions but they were so lame they didn't count. I lost my mucus plug (what's a birth story without the words 'mucus plug' anyway?), my baby was still kicking like crazy, I felt great, I just didn't have a baby. There was a lot of ice on the road, so Dustan called the hospital and tried to cancel my appointment, but they got all bent out of shape. So we agreed to come in on Thursday, the 24th, thinking again that surely our baby would be here by then anyway.

Thursday morning there was no baby, but I walk into the living room with water trickling down my leg. "I think my water just broke," I tell Dust. We get a fresh surge of energy and excitement. The end of pregnancy is such a torturous waiting game, no matter how calm you try to be. Don't get your hopes up, don't pay attention, tack 8 days onto your due date, read a good book, it's probably not labor. But when you're past the due date you've been given, it's really hard to not let every little thing send you into a tizzy. We show up for the non-stress test with big grins. I can't wait to tell my midwife my water broke. Do you know what a TINY percentage of women have their waters spontaneously rupture with their first baby? Like 7-10%, something crazy like that. To me this means my body is doing its thing. Of course all our tests are perfect and baby boy is camped out, happy where he's at. When I sit with my midwife and tell her my water has broken, she confirms it. She checks me (I really didn't want to be checked because I knew that could introduce bacteria if my bag of waters was no longer intact) and I was 2-3cm dilated. She was not encouraging. Instead she launched into this big schpeel about infection and how I need to start Pitocin if I'm not in active labor within 6-8 hours.

Really??

Ok. I understand that she is liable, I understand that this is a hospital, not a dirt field, and I am grateful for the high-tech care I could receive in the event of a medical emergency. Only, this is not a medical emergency. Women whose water breaks spontaneously will most times go into labor on their own, but no one reminded me of that. No one said anything even remotely positive. Our midwife made us promise we would be back by midnight, regardless of if I'd started labor so she could monitor me for infection. We left, I got in the car and for the first time, I got scared that we were going to have to hook my happy baby up to Pitocin. I started crying.

Dustan was cool as a cucumber and started pulling out all the ammo we'd built up in our Bradley course. He said to me what I wanted them to say in the hospital. "Bets! You lost your mucus plug, you've had bloody show, you're having some mild contractions here and there, your water has broken and you're even dilated a little. You will go into labor. We're going home, we're taking a walk and eating some Subway and chilling out." Immediately my head was on straight again.

On the way home we talked each others' heads off about how hospital policy and liability trumps everything at the end of the day - even the timing of when and how you have your baby. This was the most frustrating part of hospital birth for us and it cast a dark shadow on an otherwise seamless pregnancy. Nothing about my pregnancy was high risk. Everything unfolded beautifully, the baby developed perfectly, all my vitals were spot on, every time. I was active and ate well and felt great. Yet, Dustan and I still had to fight to have a natural childbirth because my baby was "overdue." I never felt scared or anxious or uneasy about my baby, not for a second. But if I hadn't read tons about my body and a developing baby, if we hadn't taken those Bradley classes, if I didn't stand in awe of a meticulous God and his amazing design of how babies are made and born, I would have been covered up in fear and worry, thanks to the team at the hospital. Ridiculous. I'm not saying things don't go wrong (and go wrong fast) with babies and mothers. I know hospitals and medicine exist for the times when augmentation and C-sections are necessary, and become life-saving. I'm so grateful for those babies and those mothers! It's the one-size-fits-all prenatal care that I was trying to avoid.

So we went home, walked in the snow, had a fight, ate some subs and at 5 o'clock I went into labor. I was giddy. I had loads of people praying for me, that my contractions would be stronger, longer, closer. There are 2 things in this whole thing that I had zero faith for - contractions and milk. They happen miraculously, completely out of your control. No one really knows why a woman finally goes into labor, probably some perfect hormone concoction that your body releases and the baby releases and suddenly, it's time! Until then, I felt like it would never happen. But I finally got my wish and was bowled over by a juicy contraction so big it buckled my knees. I cried with relief that I'd dodged getting induced. I was washing dishes, Dust had just laid down for a nap. I woke him up and we stared at each other. We called Dana and she showed up and then we all three stared at each other. We started a game of Scrabble that we never finished. With each contraction I would get quiet and then say "That one hurt!" trying to convince them I was really in labor. I was in labor, but I was only playing games at that point (literally!) and had no idea how insane it would get.

We decided to go ahead to the hospital and be there by midnight since my contractions were consistently 4 minutes apart, and we'd promised to come back. That's when everything at the hospital did a complete 180. We pulled up, reached the L&D floor and they put me right into a room with quiet smiles. No paperwork, no flurry, no fluster. Our nurse was Gretta and she rocked it. We unpacked our snacks, someone started running me a big hot bath in a whirlpool tub with jets and I sat on the couch having contractions.

Contractions feel like this. All the organs in your abdomen and nether regions have a board meeting that you aren't invited to. They decide they are all going to trade places slowly, rubbing against each other in the process. Some say period cramps. I say board meeting.

They checked me when I was admitted but I didn't want to know the number. I hate those dilation numbers. They play mind games. Later Dust told me I was a 4. I'm so glad I didn't know that because I would have been devastated. I thought I was like a 6 or a 7. At this point, I'm in and out of the tub. Time stands still. I puke, I poop, I puke again. At some point I was back in the tub for good (this is when I wish Dustan or Dana was writing my birth story, because it turns to mush in my memory), and everything was silent as a stone. This was my Scientology phase. Tom Cruise would've been proud. But really, contractions were so painful I couldn't talk or moan or even breathe differently. And if I did I knew it would initiate another tired round of "Great job, Betsy"s and I was really tired of hearing that line. I would just open my mouth and Dana always had water ready for me. Dust told me later he would've been lost without Dana. I'm so grateful we had her there! The word doula actually means 'slave,' and Dana lived up to it. She was always thinking ahead for us, always kept a line of fresh ice waters on the edge of the bath tub, always kept my water hot, and very gently suggested the next good move to make. She intercepted if it wasn't a good time for me to be monitored, and the nurses got on really well with her (which was great because I know some people get crappy nurses and it makes all the difference in the world). Not only is Dana our friend, she had a home birth with her first baby and a natural birth with her second baby using in our midwife in this hospital. She reinforced everything we learned in Bradley.

The Bradley method is super simple. You basically play dead during every contraction. You relax your face, your jaw, your hands, your shoulders, your whole body. The point is to let your uterus - this big powerhouse of a muscle - get all the energy you have so you don't waste it on pointless things like gripping the rail of a bed or clenching your teeth or screaming. It's really, really hard to do that in the face of such agonizing pain. The board meeting is history. Now it feels like there is a rope tied around my insides and someone on the other end of the rope is trying to pull me into the center of the earth. It's hard to catch my breath. Did I already say time stands still? Cause time stands still. I felt like I might die and I was convinced I would never actually get a baby out of this process. I just wanted it to be over.

My midwife showed up and suggested I move out of the tub and she check me because she thought I was almost through transition and it would help me mentally to know. Getting up and stepping onto the slick floor of the bathroom and ending up with one leg in a half-squat in the bedroom was the longest walk of my life. Longer than Georgia to Maine. She checked me and I was a 9.5 (10 is the goal). I remember thinking at that point if they offered me a special kind of C-section that went from my knees to my elbows, I would've taken it. The sun rose. It was a new day and I was still stuck in the agony of time standing still. The baby's heartbeat dropped a little so they wanted me to get on my side. His head was turned in the wrong direction and this would help turn it. I couldn't bear to lay in bed on my side, so I hit the floor like a sack of potatoes. They totally worked with me. That was another aspect of the hospital experience that was a wonderful turnaround. I was in any position I wanted to be in, in and out of the tub, wore whatever, ate or drank whatever - and they were fine with it. Gretta left and my new nurse Maureen came on shift. Maureen had five home births, she was probably mid-40's and really attractive. She told me I was doing "a beautiful job." It was fresh wind in my sails right before the freakiest part of having a baby.

The Urge to Push. I guess my side-lying position helped turn his head and I dilated fully, because with the next contraction - completely without my control or initiation - my body instinctively curled up into a tight ball and I scream-growled the most animalistic utterance ever. That? Oh, that's pushing. Riiiight. In all my reading of birth stories, the pushing part seems to be the good part. The relieving part. The 'home stretch' part. Um, nope. Not for me. Pushing was nuts. I only pushed for 50 minutes but like I said, yeah - timelessness. Someone could've told me I pushed for 4 hours and I would believe them. (Don't dock points from women who have short labors. It still hurts like hell). I ended up on the bed, don't know how I got there, and pushed my baby out. Fifteen hours total.

Born!

Then all this cool stuff happens. Do you want to hear it? You've already made it this far so you probably do. Your baby hits your skin and gets really warm and starts rooting (looking for food) pretty much immediately. When the baby starts to nurse, your body releases oxytocin. This is the hormone that makes your uterus contract and clamp down so you don't hemorrhage. It's also the "love drug" that causes you to fall in love with your baby. The baby starts to get colostrum and that helps them pass their first sticky poo. It's this amazing chain reaction that makes everyone cry and take pictures. Only...that is not what happened with me. After my baby came out, all I could think was "I want the rest of the stuff to come out." I didn't think about my baby. He hit my chest and they started rubbing him down but I was totally out of it. I was like "Can...someone get this baby off me?" I know, so motherly, right? SO beautiful. *big fat eye roll* Dustan ripped his shirt off and put him right to his chest and held him like that for 25 minutes while I got stitched up and then a first-row seat to the Placenta Show (I was actually really interested in seeing the amazing organ that my body grew and used to sustain my baby for 9 months, so my midwife showed me the smooth side and the rough side and the little floppy Ziploc bag sack where my baby lived for all those months. Why don't we as a society figure out something useful to do with placentas? It made me sad to think about plopping it in a metal basin and chucking it. But I did chuck it, just after the Show. Don't worry, it's not in my freezer).

Dustan told everyone we were naming our boy Bear Balkcom. He came up with that name and so he got the credit by announcing it. People ask what it means. It means bear. We called our baby Cub Bear the whole time I was pregnant, we loved it and it stuck. Eventually, Bear came back to me. He nursed. All those magic chain reaction things happened. I even got my second thing I had no faith for. Milk. But it took us awhile to get a good look at each other. I was too preoccupied with this omelet they gave me, filled with swiss, tomato, onion and made with real butter. I ate it, and colors got brighter. And sounds became more acute. And the meaning of life deepened, that's how good it tasted.

By the time I made it to the recovery room hours later and passed out in my queen-sized bed next to Dustan, Bear was hours and hours old. My mom came. A day passed. FINALLY I took a shower (I will never forget the bleachy odd smell of amniotic fluid. It was dried onto my baby's head for days). I dried my hair and sat up in bed. And that's when I started to notice I had the sweetest boy. On earth. He had black shark eyes that darted around for about 12 seconds when he was hungry and peach fuzz covering his whole body. He was a little cub. He was a champion nurser. He was intoxicating. When we brought him home and tucked him in bed with us, it was so cold. Snow had fallen. My body was altered in every way. I would sit in bed, feeling the fragility of life press down around me. Wondering how it works that even one baby lives. I thought of all the cows giving birth in the snow, all the mama cats looking for the perfect spot under the porch, all the tiny babies that might not have love-drunk mamas to feed them. That was when I cried and held my baby with reverence and decided life officially started, and there were no omelets to interrupt me loving him.

A lot of those hormones have flushed out and I'm not quite so attentive in my sleep to every little squeak. With every bath he gets, I scrub some of the newborn off and now I have a plump two-month old with dimples in his elbows, eyes bluer by the day, and a broad, melting grin that he is so proud of. I memorize this baby. I drink him in every day. As soon as he falls asleep, I want him to get up again (unless I'm checking my email). He is my baby, the best baby in the whole world, and these are the sweetest days I've ever known besides when I first fell in love with Dustan.

love this

Fantastical clothing inspired by the designs of children. I love how costume designer Heather MacCrimmon followed the artist's illustrations so closely (click image to view larger). Look at all the amazing details! Found here.

weekend links

Photo via Veronica Loves Archie

I might've been away from this here blog for a while, but I still like to get my read on! Here are some interesting (and VERY eclectic) links I stumbled upon in recent days and weeks that I simply have to share. Let me know what you think in the comments, por favor ;)

Love the concept (and this review) of the Boatel

Wowza, ACOG admits that only 1/3 of their clinical guidelines are evidence-based practices. Check out this article to see a partial list of common obstetric practices that are not evidence-based (scroll down for list).

Is it weird that I can't wait to keep up with Rookie?

Erykah Badoula. Luv. Huh.

Rugs of awesomeness.

1940's New York, in color.

Super creepy, but very important read.

Unschooling gaining in popularity!

I think I read every single word of this fascinating, moving, gut-wrenching cover story.

Have a safe and peaceful weekend, friends.

XOXO,

Leigh

fun room for your friday

Extra points for rainbow walls and spooning polar bears.

Via MFAMB.

photo of the day

Gorgeous image of a Mongolian mama and her nurslings, via the French blog, Maternage Proximal.

testing. testing. 1,2,3...is this thing on?

Our busy, travel-filled Summer has ended and as of yesterday we are home in rainy NYC.

I feel completely rusty with blogging, like I could go for weeks without figuring out where to jump back in. It's a bit overwhelming to come back to this space when so much has happened I'd like to share, and at the same time I feel so very not in the Internet loop. My RSS feed is exploding, my email inbox literally rolled over and died while I was gone, and I am this close to just deleting my Facebook account right now because I don't remember the last time I used it.

When did I used to find time to do all this, again?

And so I'm jotting this post down, hoping to get the blog flow going again without overthinking it too much. I have missed posting and look forward to the time that it comes easily again.

Thank you so much for your patience, and your amazing comments and messages during my break! I appreciate the kind wishes and good pregnancy vibes so very very much.

All is well on that front, by the way, and I look forward to sharing more detailed updates soon!

XOXO,

Leigh